


Falling Slowly

by LoverGurrl411



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angsty at times, Avengers Family, Awkward Sex Talk, Bruce Banner as team therapist, F/M, Iron Dad, Multi, Peter and Michelle slowburn, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Endgame, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve Rogers is everyone's dad, Team as Family, Teenage Drama, Teenage Hormones, Teenage Rebellion, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, happily ever after eventually, hormone explosion, possibly fake slow burn, slight whump, somewhat slow burn, thor gives good advice sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 19:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17834627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoverGurrl411/pseuds/LoverGurrl411
Summary: After Infinity War, the Avengers bring everyone almost everyone back from the dead and kill Thanos. Peter tries to move on with the trauma and memories while realizing that he has feelings for MJ. Lots of feelings. Distracting, awesome, how-will-he-survive feelings for MJ.==“There’s a girl, and she’s...kind of everything, you know?”Tony huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I know one of those.”





	1. The Beginning of the Fall

**Author's Note:**

> After reading tons of Peter/Tony and Peter/MJ fics for the past week and a half, I finallt gave in to the urge. Hope everyone enjoys!

It started on a Tuesday morning, in Spanish class, when Peter didn’t have a pen, and asked to borrow MJ’s. She gave him an unimpressed look, but passed him an extra she had. Their fingers brushed. Her breath hitched slightly, and Peter’s eyes snapped to hers.

In that moment, it was like he was on Titan again, and his body was disintegrating, but instead of pain, he felt a thrumming in his body, steady and warm, _overpowering_.

He’d never thought of how soft her skin could be, or that her stare was so piercing. But they were, and Peter couldn’t look away, and _shitshitshit._

Someone dropped their textbook, and the loud _BANG_ snapped them out of whatever spell they’d been under. But it’d been enough.

He’d liked Liz before she left, in that innocent way that gave him butterflies and made him catch his breath. It had been a beautiful and easy infatuation that a year later he could laugh at and mock slightly. His feelings for her had been just as naïve as he had been.

But this? The yearning that had punched Peter in the stomach suddenly–there was nothing innocent or naïve about it. He didn’t need to catch his breath, looking at MJ from the corner of his eyes, because he was too aware of his every breath and hers from where she sat next to him.

He watched her as she concentrated on the worksheet in front of her and bit her bottom lip.

She looked up for a second, and the air between them crackled in confusion and a tension that made Peter want to squirm and close his eyes in a strange pleasure simultaneously.

No, this was nothing like Liz. MJ wasn’t Liz.

She was more, so much more, and the way he could hear her breath stutter a bit–

_That_ was the moment he understood what desire was.

It made Peter a bit sad to realize that what he’d felt for Liz had never been desire, and that he’d never really understood all the things he’d thought he had.

==

Wanting MJ was stressful. It invaded his senses throughout inopportune moments in the day, like during an exam in pre-calculus, or during dodgeball in gym. The only thing that saved him was his spidey senses, but it couldn’t stop the dizziness that washed over him as she passed him by in the halls, or sat down next to him at lunch with a casual, “hey, loser.”

Wanting MJ was stressful...until it wasn’t, because he still had nightmares about disappearing, and they fucked with him more than not. In those moments, he reveled in the wanting of her.

When he woke up from a nightmare, Peter would try to breathe and think of the way MJ bit her lip when she concentrated, or pushed her hair out of her face when she ranted.

_–his body started to float away_ –

Peter gripped the sheets tighter, thinking about the way MJ’s eyes sparkled and trailed over him, through him.

– _pain and a fire unseen burned through him, crushing him, dismembering every particle in his body_ –

He fantasized that those eyes were under him, breathing with him, calming him.

“Your heart rate is elevated, Peter. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?” KAREN’s voice invaded the fantasy. He’d forgotten to take his suit off again when he got in from patrolling; it was starting to become a bad habit.     

“No,” Peter rasped out. He wanted to sound firmer, but he couldn’t. It was too soon, too close to the dream in time. He just needed a few more minutes and he’d be fine.

“This is the fifth night in a row that this has happened,” KAREN reminded him as though he could forget. But stress caused him to have more nightmares, and wanting MJ was extremely stressful. “I think I should contact Mr. Stark.”  

He shook his head, but AI’s can’t see. A few more minutes with MJ in his mind, smiling that small smile of hers, and he could relax.

– _Mr. Stark’s eyes were so afraid, robbing him of any peace inside of death; death, death, death–he was dying. This was death, and there’d never been pain like this before_ –

Peter wasn’t sure how long the memory from the nightmare lasted, but MJ’s soft skin against his own finally caught him.

He’d been falling, but the thought of those hands on him, kept him grounded. But there was an actually hand gripping his arm, shaking him a bit, and Peter realized Tony Stark was in his bedroom.

The haze of dream/awakeness that had meshed and drowned him lifted completely and Peter rushed to sit up.

“Hey, easy there, kid,” Tony put some pressure against Pete’s chest.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Peter stammered as he sat up, breath a bit shallow. “KAREN shouldn’t have called you, I’m okay.”

“No offense kid, but this is the opposite of okay,” Tony frowned, and sat on the edge of the bed. “How long have you been having nightmares?”

“Depends on the day–the week,” Peter shrugged. “This week’s been harder than others, that’s all. _I’m fine_.”

Tony Stark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I was the king of ‘I’m fine’ too. But you can’t keep things like this to yourself.” Peter went to object but Tony held up his hand. “This isn’t just about you, this is about the safety of everyone. You think you’re any use to anyone tired and delirious because you haven’t gotten any sleep? Out there, as Spiderman, you can just as easily injure somebody as yourself by accident because you’re exhausted. So, spare me the ‘I’m fine’ routine and tell me why you’re stressed.”

Peter wanted to tell him about the fact that he can barely focus in film class because they were talking about coloring this month, and the sunset themed films reminded him of being on Titan, and dying, and being resurrected which had hurt just as much.

He wanted to call him out on his hypocrisy because Tony looked just as tired as him. But Iron Man could take breaks–was currently on one. Iron Man could deal with his trauma on his own terms because he wasn’t in highschool and no one expected him to just be okay.

Spiderman didn’t have breaks, not really.

So, he looked towards the window that Tony had come in through and let the words flow as though it wasn’t 2am in the morning.

“There’s a girl, and she’s...kind of everything, you know?”

Tony huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I know one of those.”

“It’s fine,” Peter shrugged and tried to push through in that awkward way of his that was half rambling and half brutal. “The world isn’t ending, and I’m not back on Titan, and I get that, but the sunset is always there, and I can’t really escape it. But sometimes I don’t want to because she looks really pretty in the sunset, you know? Her skin looks like it’s glowing against the sunset, and sometimes I think it’s okay, and everything’s okay, until it’s not. And she looks at me like she sorta, maybe, might feel the same way about me sometimes, but then maybe it’s in my head. It just kinda drives me crazy, and I close my eyes to try to escape her, but she’s in my dreams, with me on titan, disappearing alongside me, and it really sucks, you know? It sucks because it hurts, and I don’t want her to feel that kind of pain, but then I’ve got to see her, after a Decathlon practice, in the sunset, and–yeah. I don’t know. Just, it all just gets to be a bit much sometimes.”

Tony stared at Peter with concern in his eyes, but at least there wasn’t pity or judgment; there couldn’t be because he knew exactly what those dreams were like from the other perspective–the perspective of failure, watching Peter disappear, and the terror freezing him.

They were all haunted by Thanos’ actions in their own way, and pitying Peter would mean that Tony would have to pity himself. So, instead, Tony focused on what he _could_ help.

“Have you told her how you feel?”

“No,” Peter said emphatically, as though it were the worst suggestion in the world. “What am I going to say? Hey, so, I can’t stop thinking about you, and sometimes it’s good thoughts, and sometimes it’s horrible and you die.”

“ _Or_ ,” Tony rolled his eyes as he stood up. “You could simply stop at the ‘I can’t stop thinking about you’? Better yet, simplify it to ‘I like you. Want to go to dinner?’ I’m not Casanova, but I think that’ll do the trick with the desired results.”

“Maybe,” Peter shrugged again. “Anyway, sorry KAREN woke you up.”

“No worries kid,” Tony smirked self-deprecatingly. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been doing my fair share of waking people up in the middle of the night since Thanos too. We all have. The key is dealing with it so you can move on.”

“And have you?” Peter asked thoughtlessly. “Been dealing with it?” He felt slightly bad about pushing the question, but there’s been a burning anger towards the man since Titan that he hasn’t been able to shake fully. It’s strange, and he’s not sure why, and sometimes pushing Tony makes him feel a bit better.

Tony gave Peter a searching look that would’ve been awkward and uncomfortable in the light of day, but at 2:30am, it was just a part of the darkness and the night. “Sometimes. Sometimes, it’s just easier to focus on everything that I’ve got that’s good and let it overshadow everything else, everything dark that’s still inside me. That might always be inside of me.”

Peter nodded because he could understand that. MJ sometimes got pulled into the darkness inside of him, but she was the light, wanting her was a beacon for him that overshadowed and overcame the darkness too sometimes.

“Does your aunt know about the nightmares?”

“No, and please don’t tell her. You _know_ how excitable Aunt May can be,” Peter pleaded, the remnants of his terrors chased away with the waves of the normal conversation.

“She won’t hear it from me,” Tony smirked. “On one condition.”

Peter knew he wasn’t going to like whatever was coming. “Anything,” he answered honestly. Because even if he didn’t like the condition, it would still be be better than dealing with Aunt May’s sad and pitying eyes, full of grief for him that she couldn’t help.

“You’re going to have sessions with Banner–twice a week.”

“What? What do you mean sessions?”

“I mean _sessions_. You’ll talk, and work through your shit, kid.”

“But I thought you just said that you–”

“I’m me, and you’re supposed to be better than me,” Tony said seriously. “This is one of the ways you do better than me, by learning to deal with your problems head on instead of hiding from them.”

Peter wanted to object before but he felt Tony’s words resonate within his chest just like the first time he’d said them to him.

_You were supposed to be better than me_.

And even though Tony wasn’t his dad, it still sort of felt like he was when he said things like that. When he gazed at him with those eyes full of expectations and understanding.

“Sleep, kid,” Tony settled himself in the rickety chair at his computer desk. Peter wanted to tell him he didn’t have to stay, but there was something solid, comforting about knowing that he wasn’t completely alone. “Dream of your girl–the good dreams, not the bad ones– and things’ll look better in the morning.”

Peter tried to smile, but exhaustion was calling to him, and as he closed his eyes, MJ’s small smile and penetrating gaze beckoned him.

His shoulders relaxed, because even though wanting MJ was stressful, sometimes wanting her was Peter’s saving grace.       

  

 

 


	2. The Space Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy, Love, and 40's Sex Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have no idea why I wrote this entire chapter listening to "Please Notice" by Christian Leave--except this song IS MJ and Peter! Haha. Anywho, hope everyone enjoys!

“I didn’t know that you had a psychiatry degree, Mr. Banner” Peter smiled awkwardly as they sat in Bruce’s lab at the Tower.

Bruce smiled ironically, “I don’t.”

“Uhh…” Peter rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure why he was being forced to talk to him then if he wasn’t an actual therapist.

“No one seems to care,” Bruce shrugged in that way that was particularly his. “So, why are you here?”

“I–I guess I have nightmares,” Peter’s leg bounced in anxiety. He was perched on a stool across from Bruce as though they were about to start working on something fascinating. “It’s not a big deal–lots of people have them. I looked it up online. Well, okay, Ned looked it up, but, yeah. Thanos scared a lot of people.”

“Sure, but the people who disappeared don’t remember disappearing,” Bruce pointed out, as he sipped his coffee calmy. “They didn’t realize they were ever gone. The only people who remember them disappearing were those left behind. You remember. Tony said that it hurt you?”

Peter nodded, fist clenched tight. “Yeah–I mean, my healing tried to save me, so I definitely didn’t _go gently into that good night_.”

“I didn’t know you liked poetry,” Bruce smiled surprised.

“I don’t–well, not really. Sometimes they kinda get it, and it’s simple and I get what they get, but a lot of the time they’re too deep for me.” Peter felt his own lips lift. “I had Decathlon practice today and MJ insisted on working with literature this week.”

“Ah, is she a friend of yours?”

“...yeah–I mean, I guess. Maybe. What counts as friendship with girls?”

Bruce chuckled, “That’s a complicated answer that I’m still trying to figure out. Do you guys hang out? Do you enjoy each others company? Do you share things about your lives?”

Peter’s smile dropped slightly; he realized that he and MJ might be superficially friends, but not _real_ friends–not the kind that shared their pains and troubles. Not really.

Bruce saw the conflict on Peter’s face, and he realized that maybe those were heavy questions to contemplate at sixteen.

“Do you want to talk about your dreams?”

“No,” Peter quickly responded. There was no doubt in him that his dreams were the _last_ thing he wanted chasing him during the day. “But don’t I have to? Isn’t that why I’m here?”

“You’re here to talk,” Bruce said firmly. “We can talk about your dreams, or we can talk about things that make you happy, or not talk at all.”

“Not talking doesn’t sound like therapy to me,” Peter grinned.

It felt nice to smile without the backdrop of phantom pains lingering in the corner of his lips, trying to drag them down.

“You’d be surprised how much _not_ talking can help sometimes,” Bruce’s eyes glinted teasingly. “Isn’t that what hot yoga is all about?”

Peter laughed, and his laughter echoed in the halls of the Tower, making Tony and Steve pause in their journey to the kitchen, a matching sense of contentedness in the air surrounding them.

==

The next day Peter couldn’t get his conversation with Bruce out of his head. It played on a loop in his mind, trying to reconfigure reality with MJ into those parameters.

_Do you guys hang out?_

Check. They had Decathlon, and field trips, and MJ sat with him and Ned during lunch sometimes.

_Do you enjoy each other’s company?_

Peter wasn’t sure. Check minus? What counted as enjoyment?

_Do you share things about your lives?_

No. The answer was simple and horrible and Peter wanted to march up to MJ right in the middle of pre-calculus and tell her all the secrets that lingered inside of him.

But he couldn’t. That’s not the way things worked–not for him. But it could. Peter knew that no one would judge him if he shared his secret with MJ. He knew MJ would probably think it was semi-cool, considering how much she defended Spider-Man in a mock-debate a few weeks ago.

But his stomach churned at the thought of having to say the words. His throat closed at the prospect of sharing so much of himself. It was ridiculous, and he knew he could start out with something simple, but he wasn’t sure what counted as simple. Everything felt so intertwined in his life, that one simple thing led to others that weren’t so simple.

But the bell rang, and everyone was flooding the halls to leave the building.

“You coming?” Ned grabbed his bag and glanced at Peter who was stuck, still in his seat, looking at something in the distance that wasn’t there anymore. Looking at the space where MJ had been sitting. “Dude?”

“Yeah–yeah,” Peter stood abruptly. He launched himself out the door and into the hallway that was clearing fast.

“Wait–what’s going on?” Ned caught up to him, eyes searching for something, any reason for Peter’s strange behavior.

But Peter saw MJ, and he wanted– _needed_ –to check some of Bruce’s questions of the list. He needed to feel like things weren’t as stagnant and superficial with MJ as he felt they were.

“I’ll catch you later,” Peter rushed out as he ran away.

“Wait–what?!” Ned yelled after him, but Peter was already down the hall, bursting through the front doors of the school.

He looked around, trying to look beyond those milling about, talking, smiling, _sharing_ existence in a way Peter wanted to share with MJ.

His shoulders slumped when he couldn’t see her, but as he felt he’d lost his chance for the day, his ears heard her steps and heartbeat. It seemed ridiculous that he could pick out the sound of her heartbeat from everyone around, but she was MJ and the stress level that she’d been causing him lately made him acutely aware of everything related to her.

His body spun, and there she was, about to turn the corner of the street.

“MJ!” Peter yelled, and she paused mid-step and turned.

He rushed towards her, and there was something about the way her hair curled in the wind, and the light glinted a soft pink and grey because of a fire a few blocks away that wouldn’t let him stop. The horn of the firetrucks blared like a warning, but Peter’s feet were flying on the ground and he reached MJ. She looked at him curiously, shock etched into the lines of her face as he barrelled into her.

Her ” _oomph_ ” was drowned out by the sound of the last firetrucks passing them by.

“What are you doing?” MJ whispered shakily, her whole body tense, her breath against his neck sending a slight shiver down Peter’s back.

"Hugging you," Peter let his lips graze the corner of her ear as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Her hair was wild and suffocating around him. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Is this going to become a thing?" MJ spoke in that dispassionate and hard tone of hers, but her arms went up slowly–so slowly that Peter thought he would explode– as she relaxed and curved her limbs around his back.  

He wanted to say yes, because even though he wasn’t sure what came over him, he knew that he wanted to be close to her. He wanted to be closer to her than what he was, and he didn’t know how to do that with words.

Peter licked his dry lips, "Do you want it to?"

“Are you going through an emotional crisis, loser?” MJ countered.

It was so typical MJ to avoid having to express the existence of emotions that Peter couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. He felt her body shiver slightly, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of him or the chill in the air.

“ _Michelle_ ,” he whispered exasperatedly. Her name was like heaven on his lips, and he closed his eyes to savor the taste of it on his mouth. Shit, he knew he was being weird, but he couldn’t stop himself and the sky’s color tried to drag him down into the depths of some type of despair he didn’t want to deal with. He couldn’t stand all the emotions that struggled inside of him.

Her hands were firm on him, grounding, and he could tell by her voice that she knew something was wrong. Except nothing was really wrong because she was in his arms, and this was a kind of torture that he’d gladly take any day.

“Peter,” MJ said his name quietly, uncertain. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Peter buried his face in her hair for another second. Just one more. “Sorry–I’m sorry, I’m being weird,” he went to pull away, but MJ’s arms held onto his back. She kept him against her, and he couldn’t stop the way his body thrummed.

His heart thrummed too.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” MJ’s hands were warm, and seeped through his shirt. He’d forgotten his sweater and coat inside of his locker when he’d rushed out of the school after her.

“I–I just,” Peter wasn’t sure how to tell her that he didn’t want them to be superficial. He didn’t want them to be him and Liz–an infatuation that couldn’t go anywhere because he didn’t understand anything. At least with MJ he understood desire, understood the way it ruled him, the way it could attack, but he didn’t want to be stuck in a cycle of desire, torture, and nothingness. “I want to be close to you…”

Peter could practically taste MJ’s confusion on the air in between them, but she didn’t back away, or call him crazy. Instead, she simply said, “okay,” in that way of hers that made him want to explode and implode simultaneously.

“Okay?” he thought for sure she’d be running by now.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighed in relief and it was the most ridiculous conversation he’d had in a while. But it felt nice. It felt like acceptance.

He backed away, and she let him go slowly–just as slowly as he let her go. They stared at each other, and he didn’t notice the colored sky. He didn’t.

Except he did, but it was better, muted.

It shouldn’t matter because the sky on Titan had been a vibrant red and orange and all the hues of _life_ , but sunsets were sunsets and they all reminded him of dying. But this sunset  wasn’t a sunset at all, and it helped. This was a fire, and maybe being so close to MJ blotted out the world because she created her own fire inside of him.

Maybe she really was everything, sometimes, and Peter couldn’t help the small smile on his face as he let his forehead touch hers.   

“Is this going to be another thing?” she teased with slight mischief in her eyes, despite the neutral expression on her face.

“Maybe,” Peter shrugged, and stepped away fully. He didn’t realize that he was smiling until after a minute in silence he felt the pain from the stretch in his cheeks.

“Alright, loser,” MJ rolled her eyes, though there was a strange smile on her face too. “I’m gonna go home. You better prep for the Decathlon meeting tomorrow.”

She went to turn but her eyes burned into him, and maybe she felt what he felt too. After another second, she walked away. She walked into the sunset that wasn’t a real sunset, and he wanted to call her back, walk with her, walk among her presence because she made him feel weightless despite how heavy he’d been feeling lately.

“I will,” Peter shouted after her. She turned the corner and Peter was left there, waiting among the tall buildings for her to come back, though he knew she wouldn’t.

He whispered to no one and nothing, “I promise,” as he thought of the curve of her back in his hands, gaze upon the pretend sunset and nightmares chasing the beauty he’d been bathed in for a little bit.

==

“Ow, ow, ow!” Peter groaned as Bruce patched up a gash on his side.

“This is what you get for not being careful,” Tony frowned severely. “I swear, kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days and _I’ll_ be the one screeching like a banshee.”

“I don’t _screech_ ,” Peter glowered petulantly. “And how was I supposed to know that guy had a knife?”

“By _using your eyes_ ” Tony raised a caustic eyebrow, and Peter couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“I’m fine–this is just a scratch. It’ll heal in a few hours.”

Bruce shook his head in amusement. “This might heal overnight but Tony’s right. You can’t solely depend on your healing abilities to fix everything.”

Peter watched as Bruce patched him up swiftly, with practiced hands. It was like watching a ballet of the hands, but Tony’s next words ruined any calm Peter could’ve found watching the doctor of many trades work.

“How did you miss a glinting knife in the moonlight? Seriously, kid, that’s an oversight us lowly beings with _normal_ vision make. Not you. So, what happened? Is it the suit? It’s set to dampen your senses so you’re not overwhelmed–do I need to adjust it?”

Peter could see the calculations running through Tony’s head, and knew he had to stop him before he was lost in all that needed to be fixed that didn’t really need to be fixed at all.

“I was just a bit distracted,” Peter bit his lip nervously. “It wasn’t the suit, Mr. Stark. The suit’s fine, I swear.”

Tony paused, and a slow smile started to work its way onto his face. “Distracted? During patrol?”

“I–yeah–it’s not a big deal,” Peter tried to shrug it off but there was a light in Tony’s eyes that screamed mischief so much so that Loki would be proud.

“Au contraire, mon ami,” Tony’s grin was practically impish. “Distracted by what–or should I say, _who_?”

“Oh, God,” Peter groaned, and Bruce patted his knee as he chuckled quietly. The fact that he liked a girl wasn’t news to Tony–he’d admitted as much to the man, but Tony would pretend he didn’t know.

Tony knew that it  was easier for Peter to pretend that things spoken in the dark wouldn’t haunt him in the day. Except when it led to therapy.

“Keep that wrapped throughout the night, and we’ll look at it again in the morning to make sure everything’s good,” Bruce smiled lightly as he stood, and started cleaning up around him.

“I thought I heard voices in here,” Steve strolled in, a concerned look upon his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s _peachy_ , old man” Tony smirked at Steve. “Just discussing the birds and the bees.”

“ _No we’re not_ ,” Peter practically threw himself off the surgical bed, but Tony’s hand stopped him in his tracks.

“Stop torturing the kid, Tony,” Bruce’s smiling voice wafted over to them from the backroom where he was getting extra supplies to replace the ones he’d used.

“ _You know_ who he likes?” It was like a light had gone off in Tony’s head, and Peter couldn’t help but groan again.

“Wait–what’s happening?” Steve leaned against a stool. Peter envied how _cool_ Captain America really was. It was downright unfair and amazing all at once.

Tony threw an arm over Steve’s shoulder and looked at Peter.

“My boy’s growing up, is what,” he flashed a smile, and even though Peter knew he didn’t mean it like that, he couldn’t stop the burst of warmth in his chest. “He got hurt today because he was _distracted_ . Distracted by a _girl_. And Bruce knows who, but he’s being a spoilsport and not telling.”  

_My boy’s growing up_.

It was like he was proud of Peter just for existing, and he knew it was ridiculous, but it was also really nice to imagine that Tony did feel that way.   

Steve smiled, but shook his head in clear disapproval of how Tony was handling this.

“Okay, okay,” he shrugged off Tony, and pulled the stool over so he was sitting on it facing Peter. “So, he likes a girl. Lets not torture him.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Peter said emphatically, eyes full of gratitude. “It’s not a big deal. I’m sixteen. People like people at sixteen.”

“I agree,” Steve smiled compassionately. “But, we do need to talk about the birds and the bees, now that you’re at that age.”

Peter’s eyes bulged out, “Oh my god.”

Tony threw his head back laughed loudly; even Bruce was finding it hard not to laugh. Steve gave them both an unimpressed look.

“Please don’t do this,” Peter put his hands out as though it would stop the oncoming embarrassing lecture. “Seriously, I’ve learned all I need to learn in school. I–yeah–trust me–I don’t need this.”

“I’m not sure how they do things now, but this was done by someone you trusted in my day,” Steve said seriously, and Peter couldn’t help but pause and realize how much Captain America really was out of time. “There are things I doubt they’ll discuss in school that you do need to talk about.”

“I’m ready to learn,” Tony joked as he sat down in a stool next to Bruce who was pretending to be above the conversation, but was _so clearly_ listening in.

Peter wanted to say ‘over his dead body’ but Steve’s eyes reminded him of MJ’s. It was the way they saw into him and reminded him that he was present, that he wasn’t floating away.

He nodded.

“Okay,” Steve gave a small smile. “Considering they’ve spoken to you at school, I’m going to assume they covered contraceptives?”

Peter nodded, face flaming.

“I think I need to learn about that again,” Tony quipped, only to receive a stern look from Steve so severe he raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m done. This is me, silent as the grave.”

There was nothing particularly uncommon or unique about the phrase, but it was the inherent lie that captured Peter and shoved him into that in between space.

_Silent as the grave_ , but it assumed everyone had graves. Peter hadn’t had a grave when he’d died. Because he had died. He’d died and floated away–ashes and dust.

The turn of phrase rubbed Peter the wrong way, and he couldn’t help but lash out at Tony.

“I don’t think you know what that phrase means.”

“Ouch, kid,” Tony laid a hand upon his heart mockingly, but Peter saw the eyes that searched for an answer to the sudden hostility, and Peter felt shame sweep over him. Tony hadn’t deserved that. He needed to relax. He needed to let whatever was eating away at him towards Tony go. He would, if only he knew what it was. If only the anger didn’t rise up suddenly, without warning.

Peter sighed awkwardly, “Sorry–I didn’t–I mean–”

“Has anyone spoken to you about your feelings?” Steve brought Peter back to focus.

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, what _do_ you mean?” Bruce jumped in, curiosity glinting in his gaze.

“I mean, you may know about the mechanics of making love, but has anyone told you about what _leads_ to it?”

“Uh–well,” Peter felt like he was taking a quiz and failing spectacularly. “You do things together, you know, _things_ , and people typically want to go _further_ –like, well, _all the way_.”

Steve nodded encouragingly. Luckily Tony and Bruce weren’t laughing anymore. They were clearly just curious to see how people gave The Talk back in the 1940’s.

“You’re right,” Steve leaned on his forearms and smiled supportively. “But before you do things together, your body’s gonna feel funny. It’s gonna be strange at first, but it’ll be strong.”

“Like fire,” Peter said quietly without thinking. The words just left his mouth.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded again. Strangely, Peter who’d been bright red moments ago when the conversation started wasn’t embarrassed anymore. Porn and Sex Ed couldn’t teach this; this didn’t feel arbitrary or mechanical at all. It felt like Steve Rogers was handing down a batton of knowledge. This didn’t feel like a waste of time simply for the the sake of being mortified and mortifying. This felt like a rite of passage. “It can feel like fire, burning you from the inside, all the time. It _can_ be pretty distracting. More so when you feel that way and you’re not alone.”

“What do you do?” Peter couldn’t be bothered with being humiliated. He needed the wisdom Steve had. He thought of MJ, of his arms around her and her hand on his back. He thought of the peace she brought just before the tornado she inspired crashed into all of him. “When the fire gets to be too much? Do girls feel it too?”

“Every girl is different,” Steve said somberly. “Some girls feel the fire the way you do, but others don’t. And it’s not their fault, _ever_. Sometimes the chemistry between you is lacking, and so they don’t catch the essence of desire that you do. Sometimes, they feel the fire in their hearts, just not in their bodies the way you do, but that’s okay. You just have to learn to be okay with that–feel the fire in your heart alongside them. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Peter concentrated, brows furrowed. “But, well, how do you know, you know? If she feels it in her body or her heart or, um, not at all?”

“You have to read her,” Steve kept eye contact the entire time, and Peter was sure he was seeing into him. “You have to learn to pay attention to the way her body moves, even when you’re not touching. Does she incline towards you? Does she touch you first? Does she bump your leg when you’re sitting? Does she tense if you sit too close to her? Does she try to back  away if you incline towards her?”

Peter frowned severely. Wanting MJ was already stressful enough as it was. He couldn’t imagine paying attention to all of that.

“I know it sounds like a lot,” Steve smiled kindly in understanding. “When my old man told me, I thought I’d catch a stroke trying to read all of that. But you know the trick I learned? Well, the trick Bucky taught me.”

“What?”

“You focus on one thing at a time. Take your time–there’s no rush to figure a girl out and her feelings in a day. Let things build. This week, just focus on reading whether or not she leans towards you often, and how she reacts when you lean towards her. Keep it simple. Next week, once you’ve figured out her reactions in that case and know it like your palm, you can move on to focusing on whether or not she touches you first, and her reaction when you innocently touch her. Just...take your time.”

_Just take your time._

_Keep it simple_.

Peter thought about the possibility that he could do that with MJ, but he wasn’t so sure. Her presence overwhelmed him sometimes.

“But I can’t focus around her,” Peter admitted sheepishly. “I can barely focus when she’s _not_ around, let alone when she is, you know?”

“I hear ya, son,” Steve chuckled lightly, but there was something in his eyes that made Peter sure he was thinking about someone special. Special like MJ was special. “Sometimes you meet a woman who’s got that kind of hold on you, and that’s the hardest time to control your emotions, to keep reign of that fire, but _that’s_ when you have to keep hold of it the most. You keep it in check, and then let it out little by little, let her get comfortable with bits and pieces of that side of you.”

“When do I let go completely?”

Steve stood, and clapped Peter on the shoulder. “When _she_ wants you to. And after so long watching, _learning_ her, you’ll know when she does–when she’s ready. And that might not be the first time you make love, it might not even be the tenth time you do. You’ve just gotta work at her pace.”

“Oh my god, I’m _so_ gonna fail at this,” Peter rubbed his face anxiously.

“Every woman is different and needs different things. As long as you remember that, you’ll be just fine–might take a while to get the hang of not letting yourself want her to distraction though,” he winked, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh alongside Captain America, slightly chagrined. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like he was joining a long list of men who’d let special girls like MJ distract them.

“Hot damn, kid,” Tony shook his head, fully repentant, and slightly jealous. “I _wish_ I’d gotten a sex talk like that when I was sixteen!”

“Would’ve definitely saved me some really awkward moments,” Bruce agreed.

“Some things are better new,” Steve shrugged and turned around to leave just as casually as he came in. “But some things will always be better the old way.”

Peter couldn’t help but agree. He thought of MJ, and the way her hair curled and framed her face. He thought of the way the Liz used to use countless filters on her instagram, when all he’d wanted was to look at her, just her. He thought of MJ’s laughter when it cut through his chest and tore at him in the best and worst way possible. He thought of the sunset that haunted him, and how MJ could mute the colors around him, until she was the only glint of life he saw.

_Some things are better new, but some things will always be better the old way_.

He thought of the feel of her in his arms, the sound of her words carried to him by the wind, the knowledge that she didn’t want to let him go, and knew that he agreed with Captain America completely.

If in a hundred years, holding each other might be out of style, Demolition Man style, he’d still prefer to feel her.

He’d always prefer to feel her.

It was the only thing Peter truly knew at that moment, and forevermore.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Peak for Chapter 3 -  
> "You haven't been sleeping, have you?" MJ pursed her lips as though he'd done something to personally offend her by his actions.  
> Peter shrugged.  
> "The competition is this Saturday! You have to be awake to do your part!" But there was something in the way she leaned towards him, the way their hands barely brushed that made him pause. He was sure he wasn't hallucinating because he'd been watching, learning, for almost two weeks-  
> "Maybe I've been too busy dreaming of you to sleep properlly," Peter teased, testing out the waters.  
> Her face was shocked, but then she raised an eyebrow slowly. "Have you? Been dreaming of me?"


	3. Of Promises and Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Therapy and Peter/Tony bonding.

After Peter’s talk with Captain America, he was sure that his stress level would go through the roof, but something about having a structure to understanding MJ--it was practically mathematical. He liked math. Math he could do.

It still didn’t help his focus in class though. It was a more purposeful distraction, but it was a distraction nonetheless. It was strange, yet peaceful after so many nights of running away from nightmares and insomnia, Peter felt some kind of purpose . He felt like he had a plan.

_Just take your time_.

_Keep it simple._

_You have to read her_.

Learn, watch, -- _read her_. These were on a mental checklist that Peter could follow, though they were daunting.

It made him jumpy as he sat in class, afraid that she could somehow read his mind, see that he was watching her.

“Hey dude!” Ned sat next to him. “What’s been up with you lately?”

“What?” Peter tried to focus, but he was getting lost again. Lost in the way MJ tilted her head to the side, the way she arched her back as she stretched. He was always getting lost in her existence, and he wondered if Steve’s plan was supposed to help with that.  

“You ran out on me yesterday, man,” Ned waved his hands exuberantly. “Was it a _thing_?”

“What thing?”

“You know,” Ned’s eyes widened, clearly trying to give a hint. He whispered, “A _spidey_ thing!”

“Oh, no, well,” Peter stuttered. This wasn’t the time for this conversation, but something inside of him wanted to tell _someone_ of who he liked. Maybe telling Ned would validate his feelings. Maybe if Ned could see what he saw he wouldn’t feel so crazy. But he knew he didn’t have to feel crazy; Steve had explained that it was normal.

“What happened then?” Ned asked quietly. There was a glimmer of concern in his eyes, and Peter felt like a jerk for worrying his best friend.

“I like MJ,” Peter blurted out quietly as though he had some strange form of tourette syndrome. An MJ-version of Tourette syndrome.

“Okay?”

“Okay? What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I mean what’s the big deal?” Ned shrugged.

Peter was downright flabbergasted. “ _You knew_?”

“Dude, you’re not exactly subtle,” Ned smirked. “You literally watch her _all the time_. More than usual today, but whatever--no judgement.”

Peter was sure he’d stopped breathing for a moment. “Oh my god, do you think everyone knows?” He could feel his breath come in short gasps.

“Nah, I doubt it,” Ned shrugged again. “ I’m pretty sure I’d have to be blind not to notice, but y’know, I’m the guy in the chair. It’s kinda my job to notice things like that. You’re good.”

Peter relaxed after a second, slumped in the chair and watched MJ. It was almost cathartic after the slight heart attack he’d given himself. She did that to him, calm him as much as she riled him up.

She really was everything, and _fuck_ if he didn’t want the world to know it sometimes.

“Do you think it’s weird?” Peter whispered. His words could’ve been drowned out by the noise, but Ned was leaning close enough that he’d heard him loud and clear. Peter cleared his throat, “The fact that I like her when I liked Liz a few months ago?”

“Nah, man,” Ned pursed his lips. “I think it’d be weird if you _still_ liked Liz after that fiasco with her dad. And, you know, MJ’s nice--scary, but nice...sometimes...okay, not really, but she’s nice inside I think.”

Peter chuckled and Ned laughed alongside him.

Talking to Captain America about _feelings_ was important, but _this_ \--talking to Ned about MJ--was what he’d needed to take some of the weight off his shoulders.

Wanting MJ might be some type of rocket science, but Peter had his Guy in the Chair by his side; with that kind of backup, he knew he could survive this.

* * *

“You’re still having nightmares?” Bruce asked him casually as they ate a sandwich in the kitchen of the Tower.

“Sometimes,” Peter inhaled his third sandwich. He’d been particularly hungry the last few days. It was strange, because, though he’d been abnormally hungry since the bite, he usually was fine throughout the day with a couple of extra snack in between meals. But the last few days, he’d felt as though he were starving. “It’s not an everyday thing. Some days are better than others.”

“What happens in your nightmares?”

He asked it so relaxed as though they were talking about the weather; combined with the fact that they were eating in the kitchen and Peter forgot that this was _technically_ his therapy hour.

“I die, MJ dies, Mr. Stark dies,” Peter said thoughtlessly. After the words were out of his mouth, he froze mid-bite. He stammered, “Not like, not like I _want_ them-- _us_ \--to die, or anything. Not dead, like _dead_ , but, y’know, disappear. And we don’t all die at the same time. Sometimes-- sometimes it’s just MJ. Or Mr. Stark.”

“Are you afraid? When you wake up?”

Peter thought about that. He thought about the way he gripped his sheets, and focused on MJ’s small smile. He said quietly, “I don’t know--sometimes. Sometimes, it’s not that I’m afraid when I wake up, but more that I’m just not fully awake. I’m still half _there_.”

“On Titan?” Bruce took another bite.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “I’m kinda _always_ there, and it sucks, but it’s whatever, y’know?”

Bruce smiled compassionately, and Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted any compassion. He was _fine_ . He just needed to _be_ fine, but he couldn’t if he couldn’t forget. He didn’t need compassion for that. He needed a checklist like Steve had given him for MJ. A formulaic way of dealing.

Bruce brought him back, “Do you find that certain things bring you _there_?”

“Like what?”

“Like anything,” Bruce shrugged. “There’s no one size fits all for this kind of thing. I can’t go to the zoo--the sound of the animals, the way their bodies move suddenly, it all reminds me of the battle against Thanos’s lackeys. And I freeze. I freeze and forget that we’ve moved on, that it’s been a few months since the battle.”

Peter knew that Bruce was only sharing to make him understand that it’s okay not to be okay, but it was also the way people connected; shared experiences and talking were what friendships were all about, and Peter felt really good to think that he might be considered a friend of The Hulk’s--someone who was larger than life in a lot of ways.

“The sunset gets me,” Peter commiserated. His stomach gnawed at him, but he couldn’t eat as he thought about it, let alone spoke about it. He let his hand drop to his lap. “Actually, anything orange, or red, or--yeah. I freeze sometimes. Like I’m stuck. Like I’m _there_.”

“How do you usually get past it?”

Peter blushed, but he answered anyway. “I think of MJ. I focus on her.”

“Well, it’s a better coping mechanism than drinking,” Bruce joked and Peter didn’t feel like such a freak.

Peter felt like maybe it was okay that he thought of her when he felt like he was disappearing.

“Do you ever miss your dad?”

“You mean Uncle Ben?”

“I mean him or your biological father--there’s different ways for someone to be a dad.”

Peter shook his head, and said honestly as he reached for his sandwich again. “It sounds horrible, but I don’t remember my real dad, so I don’t really miss him. I mean--you can’t miss what you don’t remember having right? I miss Uncle Ben sometimes. Alot. It’s hard not to because he was the only dad I had for a long time, but...Well, I’ve got Mr. Stark. And I know he’s not my dad or anything, but--yeah. He’s all the dad I’ve got left, I guess.”

It was awkward for Peter to admit that out loud. He hadn’t even really thought about it until Bruce brought it up. Sometimes he would get that feeling--the father/son kinds of feelings, and he liked the way it felt, but he’d never let himself get farther than that. Never really thought _dad_ , when he looked at Mr. Stark.  

He wasn’t sure if this conversation--admitting how he felt about Mr. Stark out loud--was supposed to change that, now.

* * *

Therapy was nice for Peter, in that strange way where he was pleasantly surprised because he hadn’t expected it to be nice. But the best part of therapy was that Tony would always take him out to do something afterwards. It was like a little reward twice a week for surviving therapy, surviving _life_. Or maybe it was a reward for showing up at all.

“So, what are we doing today, Mr. Stark?” Peter jumped into Tony’s red convertible without preempt.

Tony smirked at him cockily, “We’re gonna count stars! How does that sound, kid?”

“Sounds _impossible_ ,” Peter joked.

Tony didn’t pay him any mind though, and simply started the car. The drive didn’t take long, but every minute was a minute that Peter was wracking his brain trying to figure out what the hell _counting stars_ meant. Except, as they pulled up to the museum of sciences, Peter took a leap and figured that Tony hadn’t meant figuratively.

“Are we _really_ going to count stars?” Peter furrowed his brows, but then realized how spoiled he sounded. “Not that it’s not cool--I mean, it’s cool. Well, as cool as counting stars can be, but really--”

“Breathe, kid.”

“What are we doing here?” Peter asked worriedly after taking a deep breath.

“We’re counting stars and getting over our fears together,” Tony said resolutely. The only problem was that Peter wast of the car and walked into sure problems, the inside of your soul type of problems, weren’t resolved so easily.

As they got out of the car and walked into the museum, Peter couldn’t help but smile. This place held so many great memories for him; every year, for one reason or another, the school would make a trip there. It was a reminder to him that there were things in this world that didn’t change, didn’t submit to the will of alien gods and demons. But, as they walked into the stargazing room, which was a 3D panoramic, 360 degrees dark room full of the stars in their solar systems constellation, Peter couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest that made him gasp.

Peter tried to think of MJ’s small smile, beautiful and brilliant, but--

The darkness was overwhelming, suffocating, pushing against him from all sides. This was worse than the sunsets and blood that reminded him of Titan. _Focus--MJ’s eyes seeing into him, hypnotizing_ \--but the stars were too close, too eternal _\--focus_ . This was _so much worse_ because it’s as though he was already lost. The thought of MJ couldn’t pull him back, couldn’t steady him. He was floating away in the nothingness of the universe, comatose among the stars, falling and standing still all at once.

“Hey, hey--kid,” Tony snapped his fingers in front of Peter’s face. But it was the heavy and warm feeling of Tony’s hand on his shoulder that brought Peter back from the brink.

“I’m okay,” Peter breathed harshly. “I’m okay--we’re okay.”

“Yeah, no,” Tony sighed , and looked up at the stars around them. “We’re far from alright, kid. But we’re going to be, eventually. Just--it’s a process. It’s time. A snap of a finger won’t bring us back to who we were. We’re just gonna have to learn to live with who we are now.”

“Is that what we’re doing here?”

“Maybe,” Tony shrugged, but didn’t move his palm from Peter’s shoulders. He knew Peter needed the feeling of being grounded to something. And if he was being honest with himself, Tony needed the feeling of knowing Pete wasn’t going to suddenly fade away just as much. “I figure, this right here is our greatest fear. Figure if we’re ever going to be back to being fearless, _avengers_ , then we need to face it. Yell at it. Tell it all the things we need to get off our chest...or, shit, maybe you don’t need to do that and I’m the asshole right now retraumatizing you--”

“ _No_ \--No, Mr. Stark,” Peter’s eyes were wide in the darkness that embraced them coldly. “You--you’re not an asshole. Like, I don’t even think that’s possible. Just, yeah, no. That’s not what you are or what you’re doing. You’ve helped  me so much these months _after_ \--”

“Alright, alright, kid,” Tony smirked. “Don’t have a conniption. I’m just saying, if we need this, we’re here. Got anything to say to the universe? No? Okay, well, I’ll go first.”

Silence consumed them, but Peter didn’t try to rush him. Neither moved, because they both knew how difficult it was to face fears. They both knew how infinite the universe was and how overwhelming it could be, to stand in front of such greatness and not cower or buckle in fear.

“You took something precious from me,” Tony told the stars quietly. He gazed outward, inward, everywhere and nowhere as he poured his fears and his truth into the space that wasn’t outer space, but certainly looked it. “You took some _one_ precious from me, and that wasn’t okay. You stole lives and broke hearts, and that would’ve been...I could’ve lived with that. It would’ve sucked, but I could’ve dealt. But you--you took my kid, and it kind of broke me. Dick move. Seriously dick move. And now, I feel like I’m stuck in a loop waiting for you to take my kid again. I feel like I’m constantly just waiting for you to say that the joke’s on me for ever believing that shit can turn out alright. That kind of fear is like a cancer, festering, spreading, so fuck you and everything you stand for. Immense space-- _my ass._ You’re _nothing_ , and you haven’t done shit but _exist_ and _consume_ . You don’t get to take shit from me, especially not anything precious. Especially not anyone important. We beat you. _We beat you_.”

_We beat you._

_We beat you._

His words were harsh, severe in tone, and cataclysmic in nature.

_You took my kid_.

Peter knew he was talking about him, though he didn’t outright say it.

_You took my kid, and it kind of broke me_.

Peter wanted to weep and hug Tony simultaneously because Tony was his hero, and it hurt to know that there was something in the world that could cripple his hero. Him. He was an achilles heel, and Peter wasn’t sure what to do with that. But there was also a warm feeling in his chest; it bubbled and boiled like water for chocolate. It felt good to know that Tony cared. It felt better to know that he wasn’t just some tool that Tony looked out for; they were bonded.

Peter didn’t know how to respond and so he gave Tony what he could; he shared his own truth, speaking to the stars, in solidarity with Tony; he was giving the same gift that Tony gave him in return: honesty and trust.

“I want to forget you,” he started slowly. His eyes as intent on the stars as Tony’s had been moments before. “I want to forget that I ever left Earth, that I ever--...I want to let go of the fear and just move on, but I kinda don’t. I’m afraid that if I let go, then I’ll forget--forget everything that happened. I’ll close my eyes one day and they’ll never open again because you fooled me into thinking that you would never come for me. Because I know now--I know what no one wants to say. The stars, you’re not so immense and infinite and beautiful. You’re death. You’re death, and if I let myself forget that, forget how awful you are, one day you’ll come to collect and I’ll disappear, like before. Thinking about moving on is harder, scarier than actually doing it, maybe--I don’t know. I just--I’m not ready to forget what happened to me. What you did to me. And that’s shitty for the people who care about me, and I know I’m selfish for it, but--”

Tony cut Peter off with a brutal hug that brought tears to Peter’s eyes. His eyes burned with grief for the innocent boy he’d been, and the person he could never be now, with the history of trauma haunting him--constantly reminding him that death was around the corner.    

Peter whispered chokingly into Tony’s shoulder, “I’ll never be Spiderman again. Not like I was before, Mr. Stark.”

“That’s okay, Pete,” Tony tried to comfort him, but it just made Peter want to sob. “You don’t have to be like you were before. You’ll be a different Spiderman. Better--”

“A spiderman who’s scared, who hesitates isn’t a hero,” Peter let go of Tony and took a step back. He shook his head, tormented about failing the only father he had, despite everything. “I’ll never be a hero--not now, not like you.”

“I don’t want you to be like me,” Tony whispered, a reminder of a conversation they’d had so long ago. His eyes bore into Peter and they were connected. Mentor and student, father and son, brother in arms forever. “I want you to be better.”

_Better than him_ , but also, _just better_ \--emotionally.

“What if I _suck royally_ , Mr. Stark?” Peter opened himself completely. He was at Tony’s mercy, and how he responded now could break Peter irrevocably, or help him rise from the ashes that remained after Titan. “What if I fail, and I never get better? Never become better than what I am right now?”

Tony shrugged, turned towards the stars, and firmly said, “Then I’d still be proud of you. Trying matters, and that was something that I don’t think my own father ever really understood. How tough it was to just try. How much trying and failing shapes you, motivates you, makes you better in other unexpected ways...If you try and fail then I’d still be proud of you…I could never _not_ be proud of you.”

Peter felt his eyes burn in emotion, but there was a weight lifted off of his shoulders that he hadn’t truly realized was there.

_I could never not be proud of you_.

Peter felt loved, beyond measure, and it was genuinely one of the greatest feelings in the world. He looked out to the stars, the immense nothing filled with despair and pain, and smiled. Tony saw the relief in Peter’s eyes, the soft smile breaking through like dawn and hope, and smiled too.

“Coming here was definitely one of the best ideas I’ve had in awhile, huh?” Tony smugly commented.

Peter let out a breathy laugh full of optimism. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. It really was.”   

* * *

As they were leaving the museum, Peter felt lighter than he’d been in a long while. There was a hope in his heart that fluttered and made him feel practically lightheaded. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep that’s finally caught up to him.

He was almost out of the building, a few steps behind Tony who’d just walked through the revolving door, when a voice made him turn around sharply in surprise.

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" MJ pursed her lips as though he'd done something to personally offend her by his actions.

Peter shrugged. “Hey MJ.”

"The competition is this Saturday! You have to be awake to do your part!" But there was something in the way she leaned towards him, the way their hands barely brushed that made him pause. He was sure he wasn't hallucinating because he'd been subconsciously watching, learning, for almost two weeks-

"Maybe I've been too busy dreaming of you to sleep properly," Peter teased, testing out the waters.

Her face was shocked, but then she raised an eyebrow slowly. "Have you? Been dreaming of me?"

It was such a blunt question, completely MJ, that Peter couldn’t help but smile. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He knew this was the moment he’d seen in TV that people flirted, but he wasn’t sure he knew _how_ to flirt, let alone do it properly. His smile dropped. Anxiety started to creep into his shoulders at the prospect of having to flirt _correctly_ , and what if he did it wrong, and--

He took a breath and went with the truth. “I always dream about you.”

MJ inhaled sharply. It was quick, and he was worried he’d said the wrong this and startled her--

“Cool,” she shrugged. “Good to know I’m special.”

Peter’s small smile returned. “Never doubt it.”

MJ blushed shyly, and after a moment punched him on the arm.

“Okay, well, you were on your way out, so see ya later loser.”

Peter didn’t want to leave, not now that he knew she was there. Not when he thought she might feel the fire like he felt it.

But she turned and walked away, a slight blush still staining her caramel cheeks. Peter watched her for a moment, feeling that same thrum in his body that always assaulted him when she was around.

After a few more moments, Peter turned and walked out of the revolving doors. Tony was leaning against a convertible that _didn’t_ belong to him, sunglasses shielding him against the sun and fans.

“So that was her, huh?” Tony smirked.

Peter smiled, the same hope as before still warming him. He didn’t bother to deny who she was because she was beautiful, unpredictable, whiskey burning in his chest, _MJ_.

“That’s her.”

“Now you’re _really_ glad we came here, aren’t you, kid?” Tony teased goodnaturedly.

“Yeah, I really am,” Peter huffed out an embarrassed laugh. But then he looked Tony in the eye and gave him his truth. “Today was a good day, Mr. Stark. Thanks.”

“Anytime kid,” Tony threw an arm over Peter’s shoulder and started walking down the block to their car. “Anytime.”

_Anytime._

It was a promise between a father and son, even if neither bothered to say it. It was a promise that stayed with Peter through the night days later when even the thought of MJ couldn’t calm him from the night terror.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Peak Chapter 4:   
> "Hey," Peter stood on top of MJ's fire escape.  
> "What are you doing here, Peter?" MJ whispered harshly.  
> "I needed to see you."


	4. Waiting on a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes a lot of spontaneous decisions, and Tony shows that he's not actually made of iron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a new chapter is FINALLY here! I hope it everything that you guys wished for! I gave a little nod to Into the Spiderverse, which makes me happy inside. Also, the flashback scenes are from my whumptober2019 oneshot. After I wrote it, and uploaded it to my tumblr, I realized how much it really could fit this story, so I adjusted it a bit, and tada! Anywho, a lot happens in this one, so I hope you're all strapped in and ready for this ride! :)

Patrol was the same as always--contrary to what Peter wanted or needed. On nights that Peter just wanted to go home and relax, maybe hang out with Ned, the entire city was losing its mind with crime; on nights like tonight, when Peter wanted a distraction from the constant thrumming in his head that eventually he’ll have to go to sleep, eventually, he’ll have to face his dreams, there wasn’t a crime in sight.  

Therapy was helping, maybe. Sometimes he didn’t have nightmares, but Peter knew he wasn’t where he should be. 

“It’s getting late, Peter,” Karen’s smooth voice broke through his thoughts. 

He knew she was right, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe he was never fully ready to see if he’d have a good night or a bad one. 

“Nothing on the scanner?” 

“No, Peter.” Karen responded, and if the AI could sound exasperated, she’d definitely would be. “There hasn’t been anything on the scanners all night. Also, your curfew is getting closer.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter rolled his eyes. Sometimes Karen was the  _ worst _ nag he could find. “Alright, I’m going home.” 

He shot a web, and swung through the air. He let his instincts take over, and Peter truly meant to go home. Really, he did. But sometimes, his body would take him to places that made his heart burn. 

Once, instinct had guided him to Ben’s grave, and he’d spent half the night crying, leaning against a headstone that was cold and wet. 

Another time, instinct had taken him to Avengers Tower where he’d encountered Tony awake, a glass of single malt in his hand. He hadn’t been too sure why he’d been there, but soon, he fell asleep, calmed by the comforting presence of Tony. 

Tonight, his body led him to the window sill of MJ’s room. He knew he shouldn’t have been there. Maybe it was wrong--at the very least  _ creepy _ . But he couldn’t find it in himself to move away. He could hear her heartbeat, and he wondered what it would sound like if he showed her who he was. 

Would it quicken, like war drums, or would it beat like a horse’s galloping hooves. 

Would she even be surprised at all? 

Peter didn’t know, but--

“Peter, your heart rate is escalating,” Karen interrupted his thoughts. “Should I contact Mr. Stark?” 

“No! No, don’t do that, Karen,” Peter looked away from the window. “I’m fine. Just, you know. Standing.” 

“Baby Monitor protocol--”

“Oh my god!” Peter groaned. “I thought we disabled that?!”

“You did. Mr. Stark reinstated it with some revisions.” 

“Okay, well--”

“It is now past your curfew, Peter. Baby Monitor Protocol dictates that I inform Mr. Stark that you are still outside.” 

“Wait--Karen!” 

“You have an incoming call from Mr. Stark.” 

Peter groaned louder, and shook his head. Before he could tell Karen to ignore the call, Karen had already patched him through. His Parker luck was definitely in fine form tonight.   

“Kid,” Tony’s face appeared clear as day. “Why are you not home? It’s definitely a school night.” 

“I was on my way home, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “According to the Baby Monitor Protocol, you haven’t moved in ten minutes. Wanna try that again?”

“I’m just--” Peter wasn’t sure how to explain what he was doing. “I’m standing.” 

“Okay?” Tony’s face scrunched up in confusion and the beginning lines of worry. “Standing where?”

“In front of MJ’s window…” Peter mumbled, ashamed. He knew it sounded strange. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know.”

It was his only truth tonight. He didn’t know why he was there, but he needed to be there. To hear her heartbeat. 

“Kid, do you need me to come down there?” Tony’s somber and firm voice cut through everything. 

“No. I just,” Peter hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to explain what he didn’t understand. “I just wanted to be near her. Like this. Like who I am, because this is who I  _ really _ am, y’know? Spiderman is who I always am, but she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t get to know that, and it’s not really fair to her. And--well, it’s not really fair me to either, right? How am I supposed to get to know her, let her get me know me,  _ share _ , if I don’t get to share the largest part of me? The  _ best _ part of me.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, but Peter could see the emotions flickering through his face. Finally he said, “Kid, being Spiderman might be the  _ largest _ part of  you, but guaranteed... _ Peter Parker _ is the  _ best _ part of you.  _ Peter Parker _ is what makes Spiderman so amazing. Super strength and a suit--there are plenty of heroes like that. But there’s only one Peter Parker. And  _ that’s _ what she sees.” 

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter gave a small smile, but it was enough for Tony to feel like his heart was full. 

Tony cleared his throat, and hit his chest. “No problem, kid. Now,  _ go home _ .” 

Peter chuckled, and turned away from MJ’s apartment building. 

* * *

For the next three days Peter found himself on the rooftop across from MJ’s building. Every time he’d arrive he’d swear, and Karen would mention that Mr. Stark wouldn’t approve of his language. 

But he couldn’t focus on that because all he could hear was Bruce’s voice in his head. 

_ Do you share things about your lives? _

He didn’t understand where the urge was coming from, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore. He knew that Tony thought that just knowing Peter, the teenage boy who loved Star Wars and Lego sets was enough. But it wasn’t. 

It couldn’t be. 

Not when Peter watched her so intently. Not when MJ seemed to be watching him right back. 

There was a heat in the base of his stomach that crawled down his belly when she smiled or bit her lip that was getting harder to ignore. 

“Peter, you have an incoming call from--”

“Ignore it.” 

Peter snapped as he finally,  _ finally _ jumped the distance from the fire escape across the alley, to the fire escape of MJ’s bedroom. 

This was a horrible decision. He needed to stop. Go home. Go  _ away, anywhere _ but here. But MJ was there, bright and beautiful in ridiculous spongebob squarepants pj shorts and a white tee. There she was swaying to music playing on the radio like she was a seductress from another universe. 

There was nothing outside of watching her,  _ so fucking close _ , until she turned. 

MJ turned, and her eyes were wide, her lips parted in surprise, her heartbeat beating furiously. It could’ve been fear or excitement or a mixture of both. But it didn’t matter, because he was still outside, the window firmly closed.

They looked at each other through the glass, silent, unmoving, stuck in the space between because they both knew, deep inside of themselves, that whatever happened next would change everything. 

MJ took a deep breath, closed the gap between them, and opened the window slowly. Peter slid smoothly through the crack, landing softly in her bedroom, in her space, in her presence that was everything sometimes. 

Karen’s voice broke the silence in Peter’s ear. “Peter, Mr. Stark is calling aga--”

“Ignore it,” he said harshly. Suddenly, there was a fire inside of him that spread to the tips of his fingers. He was angry-- _ furious _ at Mr. Stark, and he needed to get away from it all. His mask was suffocating, and without thought, he lifted his hand and yanked the mask off. 

MJ gasped, and Peter’s eyes were glued to hers. There was nothing except her,  _ finally.  _ He could see her without a filter, hear her without the possibility of Karen’s gentle voice breaking through. 

_ Do you share things about your lives _ ? 

MJ lifted her hand hesitantly and laid it against his chest. It rose and fell to the rhythm of his chest, and Peter closed his eyes. They were still for a moment, letting the gravity of it all sink into them. 

But nothing lasts forever; MJ was a flash of lightning cracking against the ground. 

“I  _ fucking knew it _ ” she whispered aggressively. She shoved him back a bit and Peter let her push him. “I fucking  _ knew it _ ” she repeated as though she was convincing herself. Her glare was on him, fierce, cruel, and everything that Peter had needed all week long. 

“I thought I was crazy for thinking--for even suspecting for a  _ second _ ” MJ grit her teeth, and breathed harshly through her nose. She was a whirlwind of fire, and Peter had no defense. He was hers, whether or not she knew it. He was all hers, and he would fall to his knees awaiting her judgement if that’s what she needed from him. 

_ Shit, he was truly fucked _ , Peter thought. But there was no going back. Not now that she knew. Not even before, because she was the light. 

“ _ Michelle-- _ ” Peter tried to plead, but she interrupted. 

“No!” she shook her head. “You don’t get to do that--I  _ fucking knew it _ , but you always seemed to have an answer. Always an excuse about where you rushed off to or where you were, and I thought. Okay. Clearly I’m delusional. I’ve gotta lay off the conspiracy theories. Maybe go to therapy, and talk about the roots of my suspicious  nature, and it’s probably a result of living a life with patriarchal standards of hysteria stifling me--”

“You’re not crazy,” Peter whispered. “You never were.” 

“...Spiderman went to space...” MJ looked away. Suddenly his gaze was too heavy, and the world was too much. But he couldn’t move. He was there. He was no where near titan. And MJ, she was real, tangible. He reached out a gloved hand, but snatched it back. 

Spiderman didn’t get to touch MJ. That was only for Peter. And, fuck, he had issues, but he was getting better. He was trying, and--

_ Trying matters...trying and failing shapes you, motivates you, makes you better in other unexpected ways...If you try and fail then I’d still be proud of you _ . 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, but he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. 

“You’re full of shit, Peter,” MJ brought her gaze back to his, and  _ there _ . He was full and warm and he could feel the world turning to grey around them. Except for her. 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know how to be more without taking the plunge. But, he’d taken a step forward. 

_ Do you share things about your lives _ ? 

He’d shared the biggest part of his life. That mattered too. He was trying. 

“Why’d you tell me?” MJ sighed. “You don’t owe me this. We don’t even see each other outside of school really if you don’t count decathlon or school trips. We’re not close--not like you and Ned. Why tell me?” 

Peter bridged the small gap between them this time. He wanted her in his space, and never to leave it. He needed her to understand all the things that he could say, and all the things he couldn’t. 

_ Do you share things about your lives _ ? 

_ Trying matters.  _

_ If you try and fail then I’d still be proud of you _ .

_ Good to know I’m special.  _

_ Never doubt it. _

Peter took a deep breath. “I  _ want _ to be friends with you. Real friends.”

“This is one helluva way to breach the gap, loser,” she said in that gruff MJ way of hers, but it was a signal to him. And Peter was listening. “You could’ve just invited me over for a movie, or something. You know, baby steps.” 

“I don’t--” he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration trying to find the words. Peter didn’t know how to put it gently, so after a moment he didn’t bother to try. “I don’t want baby steps. Not with you, okay. Just--you  _ gotta _ know by now, MJ...You must’ve  _ realized. _ ” 

He felt awkward, and weird. Maybe she hadn’t noticed him flirting. Maybe he’d been doing it wrong this whole time. Maybe she hadn’t--

“You want to be close to me,” MJ said simply, but it was also an echo of the day he’d chased her down and hugged her.  

“Yeah,” he sighed in relief. “I want to be close to you.  _ Fuck _ , closer than Ned. Definitely closer than Ned. Different. Y’know?” 

He was fucking this up, he knew, but he was so tired of keeping it all inside. Something had to give, and tonight...tonight what had to give was this. It didn’t matter that he’d let it out in a ridiculously messy and awkward manner. 

It was done. 

His mask was off. All of the many masks he wore when it came to MJ--they were all gone. 

Suddenly, MJ was hugging him. She was hugging him  _ so fucking tight _ and his frame shook in response; his arms encircled her--crushed her to him, and he shivered when he felt her breath on his ear. 

_ Different. Y’know? _

“I know,” MJ whispered, and Peter couldn’t have stopped himself even if he had prepared for a million years for this moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he kissed her neck, and MJ gasped. But her hand was in his hair, and she was trembling too. He still didn’t know why he was apologizing, but it was like once he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

He kissed her neck again. 

_ I’m sorry _ .

Couldn’t stop apologizing. 

He kissed her behind her ear. 

_ I’m sorry _ . 

Couldn’t stop wanting her. 

He kissed her shoulder--all pointy and sharp, and  _ fuck her skin was smooth _ . 

_ I’m sorry _ .

Couldn’t stop dreaming of her. 

Peter wanted to let her go, take a step back, take a breath, but MJ was holding him so tight and her body quivering against him was the greatest things he’d ever felt. 

“ _ Michelle _ ,” he groaned her name against her skin, and  _ fuck _ if he wasn’t about to--

Oh no. Oh no.  _ NoNoNoNoNo _ \--

He let MJ go as though she was scalding hot water and turned around. He took a deep breath, and clenched his eyes shut. 

Every fiber in his being was telling Peter to turn around, to touch her. Just one more touch and he’d find release, but he’d  _ freak the fuck out _ if he came in his pants in front of MJ just from hugging her close and pressing a few kisses along her neck and shoulder. 

He’d never be able to look her in the eyes again. 

But this wasn’t some wacky tv show, or teen movie where everyone is innocent and blind. MJ wasn’t stupid or separated from the world of the internet. 

He knew that she probably knew why he stopped. Her next words only confirmed his suspicions, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. 

“Yeah, loser” she said breathily behind him. “Me too.” 

On the one hand it was  _ fucking awesome _ that she was just as close to losing control, but on the other hand-- _ what am I supposed to do? _

Should he leave? Should he act like nothing happened? This was the part that internet porn didn’t explain. This was the part that movies and tv shows didn’t explain either. No one ever spoke about that in between that was harsh and slightly awkward, but  full of promises and apologies left to be said.

“Are we good?” Peter asked quietly without turning. 

There was something about the night that begged him to be quiet. There was something about the darkness with the moon shining on them through the window, slightly clouded by New York City’s population. His stomach felt like it was in knots, despite the fact that his fingertips and lips still tingled where they touched her caramel skin that was just as sweet. 

“We’re good,” MJ reached for Peter, but he was slipping through the window and jumping over the fire escape before she could touch him or he could desperately ask her to let him stay in the hopes he wouldn’t have any nightmares that night. 

* * *

The next day was  slightly awkward in that every time Peter’s eyes caught MJ’s, they would blush furiously. Finally, Ned had enough of the silent exchanges. 

“Dude, what’s your problem?” 

“What? I don't have a problem--” 

Ned glared. “I may be up to my ears with Betty--”

“Since when are you and Betty a thing?” 

“We’re not really. Maybe. I don’t know,” Ned shrugged and the frustration of that was clear in his eyes. “But that’s not the point. The point is that I know I’ve been a bit distracted by her, but that doesn’t mean that I suddenly stop noticing things, y’know? I’m still your guy in the chair.” 

“What do you want to know?” Peter sighed. 

“Why do you and MJ turn into tomatoes every time you look at each other today? You guys were fine yesterday.” 

Peter wanted to tell Ned that it was because he’d confessed his biggest secret; they’d touched each other the night before, and things were too new and they weren’t sure how they should act. But he wasn’t sure how true that was. 

_ Are we good? _

_ We’re good. _

That was supposed to clear the air, turn time backward and forward and make everything okay. Or at least he’d thought so. 

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged. He gave all he could handle giving at the moment. “We’re just being idiots, I think. Things are changing between us--kinda like you and Betty.” 

“ _ Dude _ ,” Ned grinned. “That’s great! Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly as he looked out the window. The city loomed before him, bustling, burning with hope that the future was going to be better than the past--filled with a bliss that wasn’t haunted by Thanos. He wished he could have that, too. “It’s everything I wanted.” 

* * *

Bruce watched Peter walk in to the lab, book bag haphazardly slung over one shoulder, face contemplative, and he figured today wasn’t going to be an easy session. Apparently, Tony thought the same thing, and gave him a look which clearly said,  _ good luck with the teenage angst spewing off of him _ . 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter nodded at his mentor. 

He wanted to acknowledge the fact that Mr. Stark thought of him as his kid, and he kinda thought of Mr. Stark as his dad, but he wasn’t sure how without making weird, so he’d just stuck to Mr. Stark. 

“So the kid is alive!” Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “I almost thought that you were ghosting me, considering you ignored my call last night. If Karen hadn’t told FRIDAY that you were fine, the people of Queens would’ve gotten a serious surprise--”

“I was fine,” Peter tried to apologize. “Just needed a little space.” 

“Kid, you’re gonna give me a complex!” Tony gasped. He turned dramatically to Bruce. “He’s gonna give me a complex. I give  _ plenty  _ of space, don’t I?” 

“Pretty sure there’s a picture of you on the internet next to the definition of helicopter parents,” Bruce joked.

There it was again--that flare of anger that seemed to randomly rise towards Mr. Stark. Peter pushed it down, but Bruce had a sixth sense because of the Hulk. He could taste the aggression in the air, and his eyes honed in on Peter swiftly. 

Peter definitely  _ didn’t _ want to talk about whatever the hell was going on with him in that respect. But if they were alone, he’d have to. Peter could see it in Bruce’s eyes that he wasn’t going to let it go.  

“No one appreciates me,” Tony looked heavenward, though there was a smirk making it’s way onto his face. After a second, he clapped his hands together. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you guys to it--don’t have too much fun without me.” 

“Uhh,” Peter hesitated. He knew he had to tell Tony that he’d told MJ, but he didn’t want to be in trouble, or see disappointment in his eyes. He’d purposefully ignored Tony’s call to do something he wouldn’t approve of. But this conversation was better than talking about his randomly complex emotions towards Tony. “Maybe you should stay. For a little while. If you want.” 

Bruce and Tony shared a look, but Peter simply sat down, and started tinkling with his web shooters.

“So, how’s everything been going this week?” Bruce broached hesitantly as Tony sat down in the seat he’d previously occupied. 

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Uh, you know.” 

“Anything new?” Bruce asked as casually as he always did, but his eyes were sharp. 

“Yeah,” Peter didn’t look up from his web shooters. “I--there’s--well…”

“Spit it out, kid,” Tony interrupted. Bruce glared at him, but he didn’t care. He was getting anxious just listening to the kid. His brain just started picturing the  _ worst possible scenarios _ , and he couldn’t take it. If this is how all of Peter’s sessions with Bruce went, he wasn’t sure how the other man stood it. Then again, he knew he wasn’t much better in therapy either. He tried to soften his abrupt interruption, but it was a shallow attempt. “Take your time, though.” 

Tony knew he was no help, and Bruce’s unimpressed glower drove the point home. 

“I saw MJ last night.” 

Peter inhaled sharply at just the mention of her name off his lips. She did that to him sometimes, and he knew he was  _ so wrecked _ when it came to her. He couldn’t be anything else though, because he was still a little bit broken when it came to life. Life after Thanos. 

“Is that why you ignored Tony’s call?” Bruce asked gently. 

“Weren’t you patrolling when I called?” Tony reclined further, a practiced facade of nonchalance he’d perfected when he was Peter’s age. 

“I was,” Peter nodded slowly. He felt like the world was going to tilt any second, but he took a calming breath. “And then I wasn’t.” 

“And you saw MJ?” Bruce was trying to understand why this was such a big deal, but he couldn’t see it. Tony had a horrible inkling that was tickling the back of his neck but he ignored it.  _ No _ , Peter wouldn’t do  _ that _ . Of course not...except the look on Peter’s face was  _ so guilty. _

“I saw her. I’m sure you know I’ve been going by her place the past few nights,” Peter spoke to Tony who nodded jerkily. His heart thudded uncomfortably in anxiety. “Last night, I finally knocked.” 

Bruce rolled his shoulder a bit trying to wave off the anxiety that was coming off of both Tony and Peter in waves. Sometimes being the Hulk  _ really sucked _ . “Okay, well, this is a good thing, right?” 

“I--I guess. I mean, I saw her,” Peter looked back down at his web shooters. “And I took off my mask.” 

Bruce’s eyes bulged, but Tony’s silence was furious. 

“Wow,” Bruce shook his head in disbelief. “That--definitely wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Well, you asked me if we talked,” Peter started to ramble in his customary fashion. He knew a lecture from Tony was definitely on its way. “Y’know--if we  _ shared _ things about our lives, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Then I realized that we didn’t really share anything that wasn’t about school, or movies, or books--because that’s her thing--and--”

“ _ How reckless can you be _ ?!” Tony finally exploded. “Did you even think about this before you did it?! The kind of danger you just opened yourself up for?!” 

“I did think about it--”

“No you didn’t! You just admitted that you two barely know each other outside of school, and you thought it was a good idea to tell someone  _ you barely know  _ about your secret identity! Are you insane?” 

“Let’s take a breath,” Bruce tried to calm Tony down, but this was Tony in full dad mode. 

The last time he’d exploded like this was on the spaceship--hell, that was pretty tame. The  _ real _ last time Tony had reacted so furiously was with the Staten Island Ferry incident. Bruce may never have seen Tony in full parent mode, but Peter had--plenty of times during that year.  

“What was I supposed to do? Just never let her completely in?” Peter questioned helplessly. “How is that any way to start something?” 

“It’s not!” Tony yelled. “You don’t start something by telling someone we haven’t vetted. You start something first, make sure that something is actually something, and  _ then _ after they’ve been vetted up the wahoo, you tell them. Maybe. If they pass the screening. You acted without any thought as to what this might do to your future.” 

“She’s not gonna tell anyone,” Peter tried to make them see. But they didn’t know MJ. 

“How do you know?” Bruce asked calmly, trying to bring the situation down a bit. 

“I just do,” Peter knew it was a weak defense. But how could he explain that he felt connected to her. They hugged, and it mattered. 

“FRIDAY,” Tony snapped. 

“Yes, Boss?”

“I want to know everything about  _ MJ _ ,” he sneered. “Make a full work up--for what good it’ll do at this point. But if she knows anyone or is connected to anyone in any way that’s shady we need to know about it.” 

“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” Peter rolled his eyes. Bruce watched the interaction closely. At that moment, Steve walked in with a frown. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Underoos has gone off his rocker over some girl because Bruce,” he pointed an accusatory finger at the man who lifted his hands, palm up in a helpless gesture, “asked him if they shared things.” 

“Being crazy about a girl isn’t such a bad thing, Tony,” Steve shrugged noncommittally, a small amused smile playing on his lips. 

“Oh, no,” Tony flexed his fingers in frustration. “I thought so too. I was amused when this was just a crush, but now, Spiderling decided  _ without consulting anyone _ that he was just going to  _ tell her _ that he was Spiderman!” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, and there was a look of satisfaction on Tony’s face that Peter wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was as if he’d been searching for validation for his reaction, and he’d finally found it. 

But Tony’s commiseration didn’t last long. After a few moments, Steve said quietly, “He took a leap of faith. There’s no shame in that.” 

Peter’s breath hitched because  _ thankyou, thankyou, thankyou. _ It felt really good to have someone understand, even minimally what it was all about. 

_ It was about faith.  _

It was always about faith, and suddenly the anger that climbed back and forth inside of him reared his head. Because he’d always had faith in Iron Man and--

_ Focus _ , Peter thought to himself. Now wasn’t the time for him to depack his convoluted emotions. 

“Captain America understands,” Peter said petulantly. Tony’s nose flared and he took a step forward. By instinct, Peter took a step back, though he knew that he wasn’t in any actual danger. Nonetheless, Tony made an intimidating figure when he was upset. 

“Cap is sentimental to the point of recklessness too!” He raged with a look of betrayal in his eyes, and Steve clenched his jaw. 

“Being a superhero is a leap of faith, Tony,” Steve squared his shoulders. “So is friendship. So is love. Sometimes we have the courage to take the leap, and it goes well. Sometimes we take the leap and it all goes to hell. And sometimes...sometimes we don’t take the leap at all, and regret it...he took a leap, and we can’t fault him for it. If it goes wrong, we’ll be here to help him through it.” 

Somehow, even though this conversation was about Peter’s spur-of-the-moment choice, Peter got the sense that this was also about more than him too. These were one of those moments that made him realize how much history was between these two long before he’d ever known Tony; Peter thought he could hear what Steve hadn’t said but meant:  _ If it goes wrong, I’ll be here to help you help him through it.  _

Tony’s shoulders sagged finally, and Peter knew that the worst of the storm was over. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter apologized. 

He wasn’t sorry that he’d told MJ the truth--he wasn’t a thirty year old hero. He was sixteen, and it had been a weight on his chest that he couldn’t stand. Not when all he wanted was to be closer to her. As close as he could get-- _ shit _ , his body was reacting to thinking about being close to MJ; he quickly sat back down. He wasn’t even sure when he’d stood up, but everything seemed to have happened in super sonic speed and slow motion simultaneously. 

“I know, kid. You’re so lucky I’m not grounding you right now” Tony sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. It was a testament to how intertwined they were that Peter didn’t even question whether or not he had the authority to ground him.  _ He’s all the dad I’ve got left _ _ , _ and it wasn’t ever more clear than in moments like these. Tony pointed his finger at Peter and said sternly, “But I need you to  _ promise _ that you won’t tell anyone else your secret until you’ve told me and I’ve gotten the chance to vet them properly. OKay?” 

Peter nodded his head so many times that he looked like a bobble head. “Deal.”

“Well,” Bruce clapped his hands lightly together. “This has been one helluva session. I think we can leave it here.” 

“Are we still going out today, or…?” Peter asked hesitantly as he bit his lip. Even though today wasn’t a real session, he’d gotten used to Tony taking him out after therapy. It was something that Peter loved and wouldn’t trade for the world, but he knew he’d messed up. 

He trusted MJ, but he had nothing to prove that she was trustworthy except for a hug that he could still feel crawling on his skin; he knew that Tony just wanted to protect him--keep him safe, and by telling MJ about his identity without letting Tony vet her first, he was making it harder for him to do that. 

_ Being a superhero is a leap of faith. _

_ So is friendship. _

_ So is love. _

Peter couldn’t bring himself to regret it, even if Tony didn’t take him out to--

“Of course we’re still going out,” Tony frowned. “Why wouldn’t we?” 

“Oh, well, I just thought, you know--because of the whole MJ thing, well, that you might be too disappointed in me--which I totally understand, cuz, like, I recognize that making decisions like that alone isn’t really cool, and--”

“Kid,” Tony interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “Shut up, alright?” 

It was gruff, and rough around the edges just like Tony, but Peter understood. He would never forget. 

_ I could never not be proud of you.  _

At this moment, Peter felt the truth of those words rush through him. 

Because this was his  _ dad _ . And  _ fuck _ , he wanted to cry, and bare what had been burning through him for so long now without him even noticing. 

Bruce felt the shift in the air, and his eyes pierced Peter. He knew Bruce would want to talk about his emotions at the next session, but for this moment, Peter just let it all go and smiled. 

His smile was contagious and Tony, despite still being pissed at Peter’s  _ leap of faith--a-la-Cap-style _ , couldn’t help but smile back. 

Some kind of father and son, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

* * *

Peter was pretty positive that when Tony told FRIDAY to look into MJ, that Peter was meant to stay away from her until she’d been cleared. But, just like the last four days, Peter found himself crossing the space between buildings, and sitting on the fire escape on MJ’s room. He hadn’t been patrolling though--just sleeping, dreaming of red and orange and the hues of life and death. 

He’d awoken with sweat covering his body, his heart burning through his chest-- _ fuck, he thought he’d been getting better _ \--and he just wanted some light. Somehow, a little bit of light and air, turned into a full out sprint across queens to MJ’s place. 

Tonight, she wasn’t dancing in her pajamas, totally oblivious of how he watched her. Tonight, she was sitting at her window--almost as if she were waiting for him. Hell, maybe she was. Peter really hoped she was, because then that meant that she’d been thinking about him at least half as much as he’d been thinking about her. 

"Hey," Peter stood on top of MJ's fire escape.

"What are you doing here, Peter?" MJ whispered harshly. Okay, maybe she hadn’t been thinking about him. Or maybe she was just surprised that he’d shown so late. 

"I needed to see you."

“It’s almost midnight,” MJ remarked, clearly confused. “This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” 

“I have nightmares,” Peter blurted out. He wanted to take it back the second the words left his lips, but he remembered Bruce’s question:  _ do you share things with each other _ ? He thought of Steve’s honesty:  _ He took a leap of faith. There’s no shame in that _ . This was how he broke down all the walls. This was how he took his leap of faiths--little by little. So he continued, “I--most people disappeared quickly. Fell to ash. There one second, and gone the next. But I didn’t. I--my body fought it somehow. It hurt like a bitch, and I’m trying to get over it.”

“How’s that going?” 

“Not great, but not nonexistent,” Peter shrugged. “Pretty sure I’ve had a setback.” 

“Did you have a nightmare tonight?” 

“Yeah. My therapist says that some things take time, and other things never fully go away, but that’s just the collateral damage of being a superhero. That if I’m waiting to wake up one day fully cured of nightmares, I’ll be waiting forever, because there’ll always be another horror, another awful thing to replace my current nightmares.”

Peter remembered the first time, after Toomes that he’d gotten a brand new nightmare to replace being stuck under rubble.

_ “Shit, shit, shit,” Peter’s hands shook as he tried to push against the bullet wound in his arm.  _

_ “Peter,” Karen’s voice broke his concentration. “You have an incoming call from Mr. Stark.”  _

_ “Are you crazy?” Peter panicked. “Ignore, ignore–” _

_ “Baby Monitor protocol prohibits me from ignoring any calls from Mr. Stark,” Karen explained matter-of-factly.  _

_ “Karen, please–” Peter tried to plead and control his trembling hand as he swung his way to Neds house which was closer than his own. “You’re not ignoring. That’s harsh. No. You–you’re just prioritizing. I’ve got a more pressing problem.”  _

_ “Baby Monitor Protocol dictates that I inform Mr. Stark when you’ve been severely injured–” _

_ “This isn’t severe, Karen!” Peter finally reached his destination, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever swung that fast before. He leaned his head against the window for a moment, harshly breathing. He could already feel his body healing–no,no,no. “I’m already getting better. Please, I’ll call him back. I swear Karen. Just, I need a minute, okay.”  _

_ Karen didn’t respond, but the fact that she didn’t patch him through was enough for Peter. He tapped the window a few times until Ned came into view.  _

_ “Dude!” Ned whispered in that dramatic fashion of his. “Are you crazy? Have you met my mom–is that blood?”  _

_ Peter slid into the room, and nodded. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking though. Because he’d been shot. Not in a video game, not in some simulated exercise–he’d been shot and he wasn’t sure how to process that yet, so he dealt with the most imminent problem.  _

_ “I was shot–” _

_ “Oh my god,” Ned’s eyes widened in horror. “You need a hospital!” _

_ “Ned!” Peter whisper-shouted to get the overwhelmed boys attention. He removed his hand from the wound that wasn’t bleeding as much as it had been before. “It’s already healing–I can’t go to a hospital…”  _

_ “What do we do?”  _

_ “We need to handle this–I can’t live with a bullet inside of me, traveling through my body–”  _

_ “Please stop, dude,” Ned shook his head. “You’re not making this better. Why aren’t we calling Mr. Stark?” _

_ “Are you crazy? I wasn’t even supposed to be patrolling tonight. I’ll be in so much trouble.”  _

_ They stood in silence for a second. Then– _

_ “Google.” Ned said firmly. “We need to google how to take out a bullet.” _

_ Peter smiled. “This is why your my guy in the chair.”  _

_ But taking out a bullet was harder than it seemed, and it required steady hands, which neither Peter nor Ned had at the moment, one too freaked out and the other in too much pain. The wound wasn’t fatal by any means, but it bled, and it hurt, and they were fifteen–way in over their heads at that moment. _

_ Tears burned Peter’s eyes as Ned wiggled the tweezer’s he’d stolen from his older sister’s room in Peter’s wound, trying to grab hold of the bullet. _

_ “Tell me you’ve almost got it,” Peter grit his teeth, but the pain was climbing because they had to keep stretching the wound open to make sure they could get the bullet out. Rapid healing was amazing and it was such a damned curse.  _

_ “Dude, not even a bit” Ned practically cried. “I don’t even now how people do this shit in hospitals! It’s too slippery–I can’t. I just–dude. This isn’t working.”  _

_ At that moment, they both realized that they had to call for help. They were in so much trouble.  _

“Well, how would they know?” MJ snapped, trying to be supportive and effectively brought Peter back from the memory. It took him a moment to remember what they were talking about. . 

“Uh,” Peter ran his hand through his hair unsurely. “My therapist might be a superhero…”

“Not Ironman?” 

“Nope.” 

“Who?”

“Bruce Banner.” 

“Bruce Banner?” MJ furrowed her brows in confusion for a moment. But that didn’t last long. “You mean  _ the hulk? _ ” 

Peter nodded, and MJ sighed harshly. “Well, shit. Okay.”

Peter sat still, his mind going back to that night. The night that had sorta changed it all for Peter and Tony. 

_ “Karen,” Peter had put the mask back on. His hands shook, he was in pain, and he still hadn’t processed what had actually happened.  _

_ Robbery.  _

_ Masked men. _

_ Guns. _

_ Shots fired.  _

_ A burning in his arm that reminded Peter how human he really was; sometimes he forgot.  _

_ “Yes, Peter,” Karen said kindly, like a mother who’d been waiting patiently for her son to figure out he needed help.  _

_ “Call Mr. Stark.” _

_ It only took a moment, and the second that Peter heard Mr. Stark’s voice, his tears started to come in earnest.  _

_ “Hey, hey, kid,” Tony’s freaked eyes looked at him. “What’s the matter? Are you crying?”  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Peter sobbed, and it was like a dam had broken inside of him. He’d been shot. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and why wouldn’t they stop shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry–” _

_ “Okay, no apologizing,” Tony said firmly, but there was clear concern in his voice. “Everything’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong?”  _

_ “I was shot,” Peter had whispered brokenly. It cracked like glass shattering on the floor, and Tony was frozen in fear for a moment.  _

_ “What?” his eyes were just as wide as Ned’s had been, but whereas Ned had been panicking, Tony was clearly moving with determination. “Where are you?”  _

_ “I’m at Ned’s,” Peter’s voice continued to crack–he felt so human. It’d been so long since he’d felt like this. This was like being buried under the rubble by Toomes all over again; he was helpless, hurt, heartbroken because how could he save others if he couldn’t even save himself? “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I know–I know I wasn’t supposed to be out tonight. And–And I know it was so stupid getting shot–” _

_ “Hey, you don’t control people shooting at you,” Tony tried to reassure him. “Look, I get it, kid. We all feel inadequate when we get hurt on the job. I’ve been on the receiving end of that more than I’d like to admit. But Cap--” he paused and Peter knew it was difficult for Tony to talk about Steve. His voice was gruffer as he continued, and Peter thought it might have been a different kind of pain than Tony was used to dealing with. “Cap used to tell me that being hurt is human. ‘Even super-soldiers get hurt too sometimes, Tony. Everyone gets knocked down, Tony. You just gotta let someone help pick you up until you can pick yourself up, Tony. I’ve got you until then--’” he mocked in what was supposed to be Steve’s voice and cut himself off sharply with a harsh sigh. Peter wanted to laugh at the imitation, but all he managed was a sharp inhale because of the pain and tears.  From Tony’s sigh, he thought that the pain of Steve’s memory might’ve been too much for him too.   _

_ “Listen, the point is, everyone gets hurt, alright kiddo?” Tony wasn’t as great with words as Steve had apparently been, but he tried for Peter, and Peter was grateful. “I’m almost there, Peter, but you gotta know that this is okay. It’s okay to get hurt, and let someone help you. I wish you’d called me first before going to Ted–” _

_ “His name’s Ned.”  _

_ “Can you meet me on the roof? I’m not sure how I would explain my presence to  _ Ned’s _ Mom.”  _

_ In a few moments, Peter had thanked Ned, promised to call him tomorrow, and had crawled one armed up to the roof.  _

_ Seeing Tony only made a fresh round of tears come up, but Peter had tried to keep them at bay. Tony, without any words had swept him up to carry him as though he was a toddler again.  _

_ They had reached the tower in six minutes; it only took Mr. Stark’s steady hands two minutes to pull the bullet out of his arm. Another two to stitch him up though the wound was already healing now that nothing was lodged in and no one was trying to actively keep it open. _

_ Silence engulfed them both, but Peter knew he needed to explain. He knew he had to deal with what happened, but he wasn’t sure how.  _

_ “My healing,” Peter said shakily, as he simply stared at his hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. “It kept getting in the way, and it was taking Ned too long to take the bullet out, so we had to keep stretching the wound open, and–” _

_ “Kid, kid, stop,” Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and Peter sagged in exhaustion or relief; he wasn’t sure which, and it didn’t really matter much. “Look, I know I’m a hard ass with you sometimes, and I can’t help that–I was raised by Howard Stark, and whether we like it or not, we learn how to parent from our parents even if it’s shitty sometimes. The point is, you’re okay, and that’s what matters most, okay? And next time, call me.” _

_ Peter nodded, but he couldn’t look away from his hands.  _

_ “I got shot tonight.”  _

_ “Yeah, kid, don’t remind me–you’re cutting years off my life.” It was a dismissive joke, meant to mask how scared and distraught Tony had actually been when he’d been told. “And remind me to fix whatever went wrong with the Baby Monitor Protocol that should’ve alerted me.”  _

_ Peter gave him  guilty look. Silence wrapped them in a warm embrace as the city lights shined bright; Peter couldn’t stop the words from forming. _

_ “How long till my hands stop shaking?”  _

_ “Soon,” Tony promised as he grabbed a drink from the bar and sat on the couch opposite Peter in the living room. “Now sleep, kid. I’m right here.” _

_ He clearly didn’t have the heart to tell him that being a superhero meant this his hands won’t ever stop shaking–he’ll just learn to control better when to let them with time, but Peter knew anyway. He could see Tony’s hands shaking too.   _

It was the night Peter realized that his greatest hero,  _ Iron Man _ , was made of armor that was slowly being chipped away at, little by little with every horror and nightmare that was added to the list; it was the night Peter realized that one of Tony’s nightmares was him being hurt; it was the night Peter realized he mattered to the man. 

Tony cared. 

He just hadn’t known how much just yet. But it was the  _ true _ beginning for them--as something more than just absentee mentor and slightly rebellious mentee.   __

Peter wished they could go back to those times--before Titan, before Thanos, before he counted himself lucky if he’d slept the whole night through three days in one week. 

Memories, good and bad, washed over him; Peter couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.  __

“Do you want to come inside?” MJ asked him quietly. Her eyes swirled with compassion, and Peter wondered if she could see all of his memories too. If maybe, some hidden power had manifested itself and all of his worries, fears, and dreams had come to life around them without him even noticing. 

_ Fuck,  _ he was tired and losing it slightly. Going inside sounded almost like heaven.  

But he knew he shouldn’t go inside though. Not until Tony vetted her. Not until they were something more than what they were; one hug didn’t change much. A few kisses along her pointy shoulder blade didn’t make them  _ more _ . But she was the balm he’d needed after nightmares full of dust and screams and darkness. 

She made his heart lighter somehow, and he nodded. She moved back from the window, and he slipped inside. Peter swiftly took off the mask and threw it on her computer table. He didn’t want to hide from her. Not when he felt like he was naked under her gaze anyway.  

There was a moment of heaviness mixed with awkwardness, where neither knew what to do, but Peter’s body was moving towards the bed before he could consciously make a decision.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.   

“Just until you fall asleep,” Peter laid down on the bed and wrapped an arm around her. He wasn’t sure if that was okay, but she didn’t push him away.

He closed his eyes, arms wrapped around MJ, and he couldn’t help the peace that settled over him; he finally felt at ease with himself.

“Why were you awake? When I showed up,” Peter whispered against her hair that was attempting to smother him. He didn’t mind though. He just wanted to continue to breathe her in. He just wanted to keep her in his arms a little longer.  

“I was waiting for a hero,” MJ joked quietly, but there was a shakiness to her voice that told him there was something true about her words, too. 

Peter suspired slowly, and tightened his hold around her. “I hope this hero’s enough for you.” 

He was teasing her, but he also  _ really fucking meant it _ , because he was so broken, he wasn’t sure he could ever truly be enough for anyone ever again. Not as Spiderman. Maybe not as Peter Parker either. 

But he was trying. 

_ Trying and failing shapes you, motivates you, makes you better in other unexpected ways...If you try and fail then I’d still be proud of you…I could never not be proud of you. _

Peter held onto that on nights like tonight when he thought he would never stop failing.

“He is,” MJ whispered, and clung to his arm. She shifted it so it rested between her breasts, and she hugged his arm like a lifeline. He wondered if she was drowning as much as he was in this world that had moved on without them. “ _ He is _ .”

Peter smiled against her hair as he fell asleep; he was pretty sure that  _ life _ was a leap of faith, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Peak Chapter 5 :
> 
> "Ah! Son of Stark!" Thor bellowed, arms stretched wide. "How are you, young warrior?"   
> "Uh, I'm good, Mr. Thor," Peter squeaked a little. No one was supposed to be in the Tower today. "What are you doing here?"   
> "I've come to visit this realm, as it is dear to my heart--"   
> There was a crash behind them.   
> "Peter," MJ's eyes were saucers as she gazed upon Thor. "Is there a literal god standing there?"

**Author's Note:**

> Sneak Peak of Chapter 2: 
> 
> "What are you doing?" MJ whispered shakily.  
> "Hugging you," Peter let his lips graze the corner of her ear as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Her hair was wild and suffocating around him. He wouldn't have had it any other way.  
> "Is this going to become a thing?" MJ spoke in that dispassionate and hard tone of hers, but her arms went up slowly--so slowly that Peter thought he would explode--and curved around his back.  
> Peter licked his dry lips, "Do you want it to?"


End file.
